


Melancholy Tidings

by thegirl_APstories



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Battle, Betrayal, Character Death, Crying, F/M, Falling In Love, Kidnapping, Love, Mistress, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, No dragons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Dynamics, Reality, Scheming, Underage - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, War, change of events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:21:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl_APstories/pseuds/thegirl_APstories
Summary: Tywin Lannister wasn't suppose to have feelings her, she was a hostage and key to the North should her brother fall in his ridiculous endeavor to overthrow the King...but try as he might, every time he caught sight of the girls auburn, fiery hair or heard her gentle humming, he found himself utterly enthralled by her. He had spent his whole life vowing to be better than his father and he had sucedded at every turn, but she was beginning to throw a wrench into his carefully crafted plans!- In a world where the timeline has been shifted, things change so easily and Sansa will not allow herself to fall victim to anyone ever again... certainly not when she has caught the eye of the most powerful man in realm, Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock -





	1. Melancholy Mind

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline has been changed along with a fair number of other things, Tywin Lannister arrives in King's Landing a year or so after Ned Stark's death after realizing the gravity of the situation that Joffrey and Cersei have brought onto the Kingdom and decides to handle it himself instead of sending Tyrion in his stead; things are moving much more slowly, in a more realistic way and the oncoming Wars are going to take a longer time to occur in my world. PS: Sansa is sixteen at the beginning of this story and Tywin is in his fifties, though I won't be specifying the age quite yet.

_Listen to the tides slowly turning, wash all your heartaches away. We are part of the fire that is burning, from the ashes we can build another day._

_-unknown_

To the untrained eye, Tywin Lannister was just as uninterested with her as he was with every other courtier that appeared before him, but Cersei had grown up under her father’s care and knew that the twinkle alight in his eyes whenever he spotted Sansa Stark was anything but disinterest; she could not remember Tywin ever looking at a woman in that way, not even her mother, but perhaps she had been too young to understand what lust looked like in a man’s eye. Now though, older and wiser, with children of her own and a deep understanding of lust… she knew exactly what crossed her father’s mind as his eye’s trailed after the slip of girl whenever she wondered past, the little bird oblivious to the looks like any other good, genteel lady, but Sansa Stark was not a genteel any longer… that had been ripped from her dainty, trusting hands the moment the girls stupid father opened his mouth, with information that was not his to know.

 

 

With all that knowledge in mind, Cersei steeled herself… she imagined she was Jamie as she readied herself for the longest battle of her life, one that would not involve swords or blood, but rather one of wits and Cersei knew her only opponent was a useless and daft sixteen year old girl. All Cersei had to do now was wait for the little bird to arrive and then begin the start of her Long Game… it would be a glorious one and it was one that she would willingly wait to finish playing out before she even thought of striking.

“Oh little dove… don’t you look dreadful!” Cersei’s emerald eyes twinkled with mirth as she took in the younger girls appearance, though she couldn’t be called a girl any longer, not with the bosom that was spilling out of the girls too small gown; Sansa Stark was a pitiful sight, but she was still beautiful and it irked Cersei deep within her bones as she looked upon the girls high cheekbones, tall, willowy figure and the girls tumbling red curls that made Cersei’s golden brow twitch a fraction as she watched the girl curtsy.

“Your Grace.” Even her voice was like soothing water lapping against a calm shore and her curtsey was perfect, though the seams of her dress seemed ready to burst and Cersei smirked at the girls exposed ankles and eyed the shoes that seemed to be pinching the girl’s feet painfully. She motioned for the girl to come and sit in front of her, the girl moving like a scared doe and Cersei relished the powerful feeling as she waited for Sansa to sit with baited breath.

\---

“I’m sorry I haven’t had much time for you little dove, but with the arrival of my father, Lord Tywin and just the endless unrest throughout the Kingdom, I haven’t had a spare moment... I do hope you understand?” Sansa only nodded, she could not say she had missed the Queen’s company one bit, the older woman utterly terrified her and she felt her hands shake as the Queen’s watchful eye seemed to rove over her. Sansa had found the peace quite relaxing, if you could ever really relax inside the walls of the Red Keep, and she had enjoyed her silent walks through the endless gardens or tranquility that washed over her whenever she could escape to the Godswood and pray to the Old Gods for mercy and strength.

“I did call you here for a reason though dove, one that I’ve been struggling with for some time now.” The Queen rested a hand upon Sansa’s and it took everything within her to not jump at the contact, Sansa had not decided who she found more terrifying… Joffrey’s outright cruelty or Cersei’s honeyed, poisonous words that lulled you into a false feeling of safety.

“It had become _quite_ obvious that your dresses no longer suit your… more womanly figure and frankly, it is become unseemly for you to be parading around court! Your bosom seems ready to burst from your gown and not to mention the whole court can see your shins and ankles… it is an embarrassing sight, for our King to have such a distasteful display parading around his court.” Her free hand rose to cover her exposed bosom, she had tried in vain to cover them with a shawl, but it was a fruitless endeavor and she oft walked through court with red cheeks and a queasy feeling in the pit of her tummy as the hot stares of men watched her. She had grown into a woman seemingly overnight and she had not known what to do, Joffrey had made it clear she was not to be given new dresses… traitors did not deserve pretty things and certainly not from the King’s own treasury.

“I-..I am sorry, your Grace, I would never want to embarrass or displease King Joffrey… I cannot… I do not have any other clothing to wear though, all my belongings are too small; the last time I received a new gown I was but a girl of twelve.” She listened as Cersei hummed with pity, though she knew that the Queen probably enjoyed Sansa’s discomfort… perhaps even relished in it and it made Sansa’s cheeks flare up red.

“Oh I know little dove, you’re just _perfect_ aren’t you? But alas, the problem still remains… what are we to do about it, hmm?”

“Y..you could always have a gown or two commissioned for me, your Grace, I would be endlessly thankful and-“ Sansa suddenly swallowed her words as Cersei waved her hand in dismissal and that sickening, placating look feel upon the older woman’s fine features.

“I wish I could little dove, but the King has made it quite clear that none can gift you anything… you are a traitors daughter and it would displease him to find out if anyone has gone against his wishes, even I!” Sansa moved to speak, beg, for the older woman to offer her just a morsel of care, but the Queen spoke again before she even had a chance to open her mouth.

“Though! There is one person who could... oh I don’t know! Perhaps it would be unwise?”

“Wh-who, who are you referring to, your Grace?”

“Well.. whilst I cannot help, I’m certain the Hand of the King could… my father has his way of getting what he wants.” Sansa felt herself pale… Lord Tywin Lannister was perhaps the most fearsome man Sansa had ever encountered! He had only inhabited the Red Keep for a matter of weeks, but he had quickly taken Joffrey to hand and Sansa had an inkling that the fearsome Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King was the most powerful man in the realm, easily superseding King Joffrey.

“Oh yes that is a marvelous idea! My father has more than enough money to buy you a set of new dresses and he has always been a stickler for tradition, you are a Lords’ daughter… even if that now dead Lord committed high treason... you won’t have any man asking for your hand if you’re dressed like a strumpet.” Sansa suddenly wished she had not said a word about her too tight and small dresses! She had never been alone in Lord Tywin’s presence and she had been eager to never be alone with the fearsome man… the patriarch of the Lannister family was the one to teach his children the meaning of cruelty and she found herself wanting to make water at having to confront him herself.

“It’s just wonderful! I shall have a meeting set up for you on the morrow my dove, one of the King’s Guard shall escort you whenever he is free to see you. A word of advice… I would try to speak as little as possible, he has never been one to like… those that drone on and on about some subject, he is a very busy man whom has no time for amusement or… silly little girls, understood?” Sansa only nodded, her heart racing at the very idea of what she would be walking into tomorrow and she was suddenly more frightened than she’d ever been since coming to King’s Landing.

Cersei was quick to shoo Sansa from her solar, going on about having much to do and Joffrey seeking out her company and so Sansa was left no choice, but to curtsey and excuse herself whilst Cersei smirked and wiggled her slim, long, ringed fingers at Sansa’s retreating form. She felt her heart racing a mile a minute and tried to steady her breathing as she made her way out of the claustrophobic Keep and hurry towards the Godswood, the only place she was able to steady herself and keep her mind grounded to the reality she found herself in.

\---

Sansa was certain the King’s Guard walking in front her could hear her labored breathing, perhaps he could even hear her pounding heart, and she tried to steady her nerves as they trailed into the Tower of the Hand… the halls still familiar in mind, drawing her back to when her own father had been the Hand of the King and she quickly abandoned those thoughts. The great oak door that separated the Hand’s solar from the halls was far more intimidating than she had remembered and she gulped loudly, trying to rid the painful lump that had formed in her throat as the King’s Guard knocked upon the door… a muffled voice permitting the hall and suddenly the door was opened wide and Sansa was practically shoved into the room.

She peered around the room, a fire was going in the blazer and candles were lit, scattered around the vast solar… the stone floor now had a plush, red and golden rug adorning the room and a proud, roaring lion was emblazoned across the center; she licked her dry lips as she slowly inched towards the imposing figure sat at the large, oak desk… the older man was writing upon stacks of parchment, he didn’t even spare a glance up towards her as she edge closer until she stood before the desk. She wasn’t sure how to proceed and so… she stood there… in silence as she awaited some form of acknowledgement from the man before her and she forced herself to not rock between her sore, pinched feet; it seemed a century before the man’s eye suddenly flickered off the page and caught her own eye, the action made her jump and she felt her hands fidget in front of her.

“Are you just going to stand there? Do you not have the ability to speak?” She almost choked at the bluntness of his words, balking at the sudden reprimand and she could only shake her head as she tried to silently clear her throat.

“N-no, my Lord… I-I..”

“If you cannot speak, you cannot be in my presence. Which will it be Lady Stark?” She took a deep, silent breath and steadied her resolve before she moved to finally address the terrifying Lord in front of her, trying to draw upon the strength her mother had always exuded.

“My Lord… the Queen said that she would facilitate a meeting… for me to ask for new dresses, my Lord. I have long since outgrown the dresses of my youth, but King Joffrey does not wish for me to be given anything, since I am a traitors daughter and therefore not fit to receive his Grace’s generosity. It is… inappropriate though, for me to be walking about the court with my ankles and wrist on display an..an-and I do not have the body of a twelve year old girl any longer… a shawl can only cover so much, my Lord.” She heard the Lord sigh before he sat down his quill and she forced herself to look him in the eye, his eyes a carbon copy of Cersei’s and Joffrey’s and if it were possible, they were harder than the one’s she previously stared into. He seemed to just study her in silence, his eyes looking her up and down in a critical manner, perhaps trying to see if she was worth whatever ramifications he would be on the receiving end once Joffrey found out about this meeting.

“Why Cersei decides to play into Joffrey’s games I shall never understand…fine, I shall send a seamstress to your quarters later today and she shall measure you, pick out whatever fabrics you wish, I shall allow three dresses to be commissioned. You may be a ‘traitors’ daughter, but you’re valuable and it is a gross oversight for a Lady of a great house to be wandering the halls looking like a woman off the street; Joffrey shall not bother you about the new dresses, I shall see to that. Is that all Lady Stark?” Sansa nods, unable to process what has just occurred, though she does curtsy and offer her thanks as Lord Tywin waves her out and she is eager to fulfill his demand!

She scurries from the room, a sudden, crushing weight having lifted off her chest and she realizes for the first time since the beheading of her father, she is finally excited about something; sure it was something petty, pretty new dresses made her smile, but it was the first kind thing she had been gifted since coming to this dreadful place and she would gladly relish in the giddy feeling!

\--

Tywin lets out a shaky breath as the Stark girl hurries from his solar, the door shutting firmly behind her and he strains his ears to listen at her retreating footsteps until he can no longer hear the soft clatter of her shoe against the stone floor. He hated the feelings that assaulted him when the girl was forced into his presence and he loathed Cersei for forcing them into such close quarters, it was easier to have a watchful eye upon the girl whenever they were in an open, crowded room, but it stifled him to be alone with the slip of a girl; she was even prettier up close, her red hair was a strange shade of copper, fire and red autumn leaves whilst her eyes were the color of the sky and the clear sea that surrounded Casterly Rock. He shook the thoughts from his head, wandering eyes and feelings had never been something Tywin engaged in and he refused to allow this girl to change that! Once she had her dresses, he would be rid of her and he could keep her far from his person… he would order her to be kept from him!

With an irritable sigh, he called for Lancel, perhaps the most useless Lannister and ordered the boy off to fetch a seamstress from the depths of the castle and have her brought here; the boy quickly fled to fulfill his task and Tywin only rolled his eyes as he moved back to the parchment rested before him… the Baratheon brothers were becoming a problem and so was Robb Stark, all three would need to be handled swiftly and before an all-out war broke out, but Tywin was beginning to believe such a task would be inevitable with how Joffrey was ruling this fragile kingdom.


	2. Chapter 2

She had been grateful beyond measure for the new gowns that had arrived at her small quarters just a few days after the somewhat disastrous meeting with Lord Tywin and she realized that she had forgotten what it felt like to breath without a small corset cutting into her ribs and how soft new fabric could feel when it gently caressed your skin… she found herself often rubbing the soft, silky fabrics between her two fingers in near wonder; it was made of silk unlike any other she’d ever felt before and was apparently shipped from Naath, a place she could readily admit to having never heard of. The gowns had come in all different colors, soft whites, blues and even a gorgeous red riding habit that she wasn’t sure she would ever actually come to use, riding had never been one of her strong suits and so she found that she nearly hated the activity. Nonetheless, she wore the gowns with quiet pride, in the privacy of her rooms or on her lonely walks through the gardens she would find herself absentmindedly humming to some unknown tune or simply smiling to herself… she felt for the first time that was slowly coming into her womanhood, gone were the tight, plain dresses of her youth and instead they were replaced with dazzling necklines, billowing skirts and small, ornate details that could catch ones eye.

Perhaps the only queer thing since receive the gowns had been Lord Tywin himself… the man had not outwardly sought her out nor had he spoken another word too her, but she would occasionally catch him eyeing her, his gaze was critical and it seemed like he was searching for something, but she could not ascertain exactly the meaning of these glancing and thought it probably best not to think on it; she could accept the Lord’s reluctant generosity _‘if you could truly call it that’_  and be grateful, without having to seek out his unnerving company again.

At least, that was her intentions until just yesterday morning when a House Lannister Red Cloak had come and sought her out in the private, serenity of the rose gardens.

~~

_The sun had been shining through the trees leaves and a single bird had been gliding lazily through the clouds as Sansa allowed herself to take in deep lungful’s of the crisp, rose air that surrounded her… she had been carefully perched on a small wooden bench that had been placed in the gardens long ago and was playing with one of the pearls carefully sewn into the front of her gown when a sudden noise had alerted her to someone coming to interrupt the peace._

_The man’s ruby red cloak had easily given him away as one of Lord Tywin’s personal house guards, the red cloaks had been a recent addition to the hundreds of people already residing at the Red Keep and they had stuck out like sore thumbs in there shining, polished suits of golden armor with a roaring lion etched on their chest plates; the House Lannister guards were far different from the King’s Guard… she had only ever heard the red cloaks speak when absolutely necessary and they only did the bidding of Lord Tywin himself, often only being seen when the Lord himself was nearby or they were following specific orders._

_“Lady Sansa Stark.” The guard before her bowed for a moment before standing back at attention and waiting for her answer, though they both knew that he was aware that she was in fact Lady Sansa._

_“Yes Ser, how may I help you?” The guard present a letter and held it out towards her, she delicately took the crisp parchment and began to read the contents as the guard stood quietly waiting._

**_Dear Lady Sansa,_ **

**_It has come to my attention that you spend little time doing anything of value, I am aware that you are not taking any sort of lessons with a Maester nor do you participate in any of the Queen Cersei’s sewing circles or gathering between her ladies. In fact, I have been told that all you do is stroll the gardens, take prayer and read in the privacy of your rooms. It has been a gross oversight to allow this to continue on for so long and I have decided that your time can be used more productively than what you are currently engaging in._ **

**_From now on, you shall be escorted to my chambers in the morning where you shall take private lessons in the ways of running a household, accounting, history lessons and whatever else the Maester believes you need to improve upon. Unlike my daughter and grandson, I do not find you stupid nor useless and on the contrary, you would be a valuable negotiation piece when Lords begin to search for brides for their heirs._ **

**_You may be the daughter of a traitor, but you are still from an ancient house and have the ability to one day bear the heirs to some lord loyal to the crown._ **

**_Lord Tywin Lannister, Warden of the Westerlands, Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King_ **

_“Lord Lannister has instructed that I must escort you to the tower of the Hand once you had finished reading his letter, please follow me.” Sansa quickly folded the letter and hurried to keep up with the guard’s long strides, though she was aware that he was not trying to actively rush ahead like the King’s Guard and it had more to do with the man’s impressive height._

~~

And that was how Sansa had suddenly found herself forced into the near constant company of Lord Tywin’s, sometimes a Maester would be present and would go through some new lesson while Lord Tywin silently read and scribbled away at letters from across the Seven Kingdoms and others it would just be the two of them, Sansa would silently work on her writing or read whatever the Maester had instructed while Lord Tywin continued to write in silence… sometime it felt like he was actively ignoring her and she still not made the decision on whether or not it was a blessing or somewhat annoying that the older man refused to at least engage in polite conversation.

“I take it that you found your dresses pleasing?” His gruff voice had frankly stunned her and she had cut her eye to look at the Lord sitting at his great desk, her book quickly forgotten as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Yes m’lord… they are some of the most beautiful gowns I have ever seen or worn, thank you Lord Tywin… I shall always be in your debt.”

“Good, one day you shall pay off that debt… I predict that within a few moons, Lord’s all over the kingdom will start seeking out wives for their sons and you… you shall be the perfect pawn to use.” Sansa knew his words were neither a compliment nor a slight, she was to simply understand that his generosity was because she would have a purpose… she was useful not, but soon… soon she would extremely valuable to the calculate Hand.

“Your Maester tells me that you have been excelling at his lessons and you are one of the brightest students he has ever had-“

“Thank you m’lord… I was always told how important lessons were and they would be invaluable to my future husband and household.”

“-but you are abysmal with numbers or anything with accounting, since it seems the Maester is incapable of teaching you one of the most fundamental tasks in running a household, I have decided I shall personally handle those lesson myself.”

Soon, she fell into an odd yet steady routine… walk the gardens in the mornings after dressing and eating, be escorted to Lord Tywin’s solar where she would be subjected to the Maester lessons and Lord Tywin’s accounting teachings for hours until she was finally dismissed, afterwards she would take time to pray, read and finish with supper in the great hall with the entirety of court before hurrying to bed before Joffrey could remember her existence. It was not a life she would have readily chosen herself, but she knew that it could be far worse… she had heard all the whispers and rumors of the whore’s that had been found in Joffrey’s room either dead or on the verge from his sadistic beatings and whatever else he subjected them too; it reminded her that it could have easily been her in those situations either as his wife or his whore, if not for Lord Tywin’s intervention… she would choose the stern, cold and silent Lord over his sadistic King of a grandson any day.

~~

Tywin still berated himself for his lack of foresight when he had decided to take on Lady Sansa’s teaching for himself, having the girl in his solar as a Maester quietly taught her lessons had been more than enough before he went and took on his account lessons for himself; his reasoning had been stupid and now wishes he had simply sought out another Maester who excelled at numbers and accounting than offer the task on himself.

The girls company was not unpleasant, in fact he found he rather liked having her in his company… she was quiet and calm, did not talk unnecessarily and took her lessons quite seriously; the issue arose because of the girl herself… she was a distraction. Her red hair could always be found piled on top of her head in a braid while curls cascaded down her back and would occasionally be snagged on a sewn pearl or gem on the back of her gown, her soft voice seemingly echoed throughout the rooms and her scent, fresh with hints of lemon and similar to the rose gardens she always walked, permanently clung to his solar in a way that both pleased and annoyed him. All in all, he found no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not escape the girl.

He often found himself asking her pointless questions simply to hear her talk, her voice was similar to a soft bell and even her breath smelled heavenly and fresh, not like Littlefingers which wafted with mint or even Lord Varys heady floral smell that clung onto the man… hers was a subtle, yet unnamable scent that he often had to stop himself from asking her what she did. He also enjoyed watching the way her mouth moved, the corners of her lips were always turned upwards and a small dimple formed in her cheek whenever she spoke confidently and her lips were neither thin nor full, the color was like the a setting sun in the hills of Casterly Rock… a blend of pinks and orange that made a uniquely beautiful shade that had no name.

Perhaps that’s why he found himself glaring at her from across the dais, she was seated by young prince and princess whom she kept smiling and quietly talking with, Tywin had come to realize that Lady Sansa seemed very fond of the young royals and would oft be seen talking with Tommen whilst gently petting one of the boys kittens or speaking kindly with shy Myrcella, assisting the young girl in tidying her blonde curls or complimenting the young princesses new gowns. He hated how _good_ she was, she had endured much humiliation and hurt in her short years and yet he did not sense a cruel streak in the girl nor did she turn into a sobbing mess whenever the King or Cersei were cruel… he wished desperately to find a fault in the girl and yet he couldn’t.

“Father, you’re glaring quite openly at Lady Sansa… what has the girl done to earn your ire?” His nostrils flared at Cersei’s question, his daughter always seemingly managing to ask the most stupid yet nosy questions.

“Since you seem incapable of managing the simple girl, it has fallen upon my own shoulders and I assure you I am far more busy than you could ever be… forgive me if I find it annoying that I still seem to be the only person in our family capable of handling necessary situations whilst the rest of you sit upon your arse and do nothing useful. I begin to wonder why I even had children.” He listened to her scoff and watch as she stormed from her seat and hurried off to find Jaime most likely since he still seemed to coddle his twin.

In the midst of his scolding, Lady Sansa had somehow crossed the room and found herself standing before him with a soft smile on her lips… the girls cheeks were flushed a delicate pink and she was wearing one of the dresses he had gifted her, the light blue off set her hair beautifully and it made her sky blue eyes stand out against her pale skin.

“Lord Tywin… would you take this dance with me?”

He wasn’t sure why the next words poured out of his lips and the second they did, he instantly regretted them and wished he could take them back.

“What possess you to think that _I_ would ever wish to dance you, Lady Sansa? We have the misfortune to be stuck in one another’s company daily, but do not let that fool you in thinking that I like your company nor enjoy it… find some other foolish boy to dance with you m’lady.”  

Her eyes had instantly glittered with tears and her face flushed red, not that pretty blush that once graced her face, but rather a nasty shade of red that could only mean embarrassment and he silently watched as she gave a shallow curtsey before hurrying back towards her seat; Tommen seemingly began to immediately catch Lady Sansa attention and girl hurried to wipe away at a stray tear before the young Prince and hostage seemed to stand and head towards the middle of the room where courtiers were engaged in jovial dancing to the abysmal music blasting throughout the hall.

~~

The second the words tumbled from her lips, she realized how idiotic they sounded and she desperately wished to suck them back into her chest... she blamed her stupidity on one too many cups of wine that the servants readily served at supper because surely, sober Sansa Stark would _never_ have assumed that Lord Tywin Lannister, of all people, would _ever_ agree to dance with her or anyone for that matter!

His words had been harsh, but the practical disgust that leaked with each one had hurt far more than she had anticipated… she knew that she was branded a traitor, but she had thought that they at least shared some small semblance of respect for one another. That misconstrued thought had been thoroughly squashed as he made it clear under no certain terms, that her presence was unwanted and that she was still a rather stupid, fanciful girl. With tears painfully gathering in her blue eyes, she hurried away from the annoyed Lord and back towards her seat where sweet Tommen was still sat and seemingly awaiting her return; the little prince had recently turned ten and he was a handsome boy with bouncing blonde curls and adorable, red chubby cheeks that almost always had a smile stretched upon them.

“Oh, Lady Sansa, why are you upset?” She hurried to wipe away at the traitorous tears that spilled down her cheeks as she attempted to smile at the little prince whose brow was furrowed in worry.

“It tis nothing Prince Tommen, do not fret over it.”

“I thought you were going to ask my grandfather for a dance… did he say no?” She merely shook her head, the little prince nodding in understanding as he seemed to mull over something deeply before the little prince hopped out of his seat and pulled on her own hand until she stood as well.

“Since grandfather will not dance with you, you will dance me?” A giggle passed her lips and she nodded, the little prince smiled brightly as he guided the two of them over towards the other dancing couples, he pulled on the hem of his golden doublet and straightened himself before bowing as lowly as he could without toppling over and Sansa made sure to curtsey deeply before allowing the little prince to grasp her hand and lead them in their dance.

It was awkward, only due to their extreme differences in height, but other than that it was surprisingly a very nice dance! The prince was light and sure on his little feet and the other courtiers made sure to steer clear of the pair, not wanting to upset the prince or more importantly, his protective mother or grandfather, and so the odd couple danced away to the prince’s content. Occasionally, Sansa would gaze up at the table where Lord Tywin sat and he seemed to either sip lightly from his cup, most likely only filled with water, or he would be keeping his emerald eyes on his family… Joffrey was thoroughly drunk at the head of the table, to the point where it seemed he had a hard time sitting upright whilst Cersei was nowhere to be seen and Princess Myrcella was also dancing with one of her guards… Sansa guessed the man’s name may have been Lord Arys, but she couldn’t be certain. On the two occasions Lord Tywin caught her own eye, his grew harder and she grew slightly scared and embarrassed until she hurriedly looked away from his hard, cruel eyes.

As she danced with the small prince, she swore to herself that on the morrow when she was forced back into Lord Tywin’s company, she would speak up for herself and let him understand that while she may be his prisoner, she was still the daughter of one of the oldest houses in Westeros and even though he may hate it, he still owed her some respect… no matter how stupid he thought her, she was a lady and she would be treated as such!

~~

He sighed loudly as he watched his solar door intently, with every passing second he found himself regretting the letter he had sent and suddenly wishing he could take it back and forget the silly notion… but his door was suddenly opened and he could only watched as Lady Sansa slowly stepped into the room; she was glancing cautiously around the room and her sky blue eyes would lock upon him occasionally and peer at him with biting suspicion. He didn’t speak a word until she was standing in front of his desk and only then did he motion for her to have a seat in the chair across from his desk, for a moment it looked as if she would refuse, but she gathered he skirts and reluctantly sat before him.  

“I had you summoned here…. In order- so I may…. I wish too, apologize for… my behavior last night at supper.” It felt like he was swallowing nails, he practically had to spit out the words… he couldn’t recall the last time he had apologized to someone and this reminded him precisely why he did not; Tywin Lannister was never wrong and he did not apologize… so why did he feel as though he had to offer up something to the lady seated across from him.

“You should be thankful, I am not a man who often apologizes… do not expect this to become a reoccurring thing.”

“Thank you m’lord for apologizing, but I want to make it clear that you shall never talk to me like that again. I understand that my family is a traitor to the crown, but I have always shown my loyalty and have always done as I am told… for that, I deserve the same respect owed to me that you would show any other lady of a great house. I have been obedient up till this point and I shall continue to be, so long as you uphold your agreement… protect from the King and ensure that I do not suffer any more than I already have and I shall continue to be a good, obedient prisoner with whom you may marry off to whichever lord you see fit.”

He watched her carefully and he was both infuriated and enthralled… she was unlike any lord’s daughter he had ever met, she was courteous and minded her manners, but the way her vivid eyes flashed with contempt or hardened in preparation for some verbal battling was utterly intoxicating; her beauty needed no second thought, her red hair tumbled in thick curls down her slim back and her face was sharp yet soft in all the feminine places… she was perhaps one of the most beautiful things he had ever lain his eyes upon and he hated that he thought so.

“Rest assured Lady Sansa, the events of yesterday was an isolated incident and it shall not happen again… you have my word.” She gave a small tilt of her head in understanding and acceptance and a soft smile played at the corner of her lip. “I have decided I shall dispense with today’s lessons, I am far too busy and do not have the time to worry over numbers with you… you may roam the gardens or do whatever you wish for today, but tomorrow you will report back here after breaking your fast and we shall resume with your lessons.”

The tall girl stood and curtseyed before slowing heading towards the door, with her back towards me I was able to rake my eyes down her backside… her skirts billowed out widely and her hair bounced against her back with every step she took, the light shades of her gown complimented her pale skin and her hair seemed like a fiery beacon against the pale shades; I gripped the quill tightly in between my fingers as a way to keep myself grounded to the present and keep myself firmly planted in my seat. My breath stilled as she turned slightly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she slowly opened the doors before hurrying out… her skirts leavings a silent _whish_ behind and I swallowed thickly at the fresh smell of lemons and flowers that swirled through the air… I was enraptured by her presence and yet a part of me hated her very being.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed the start of my story, this chapter is going to be the shortest of them all, from here on out everything is gonna be beefier and the plot if gonna quickly start rolling out! I've decided to make the plot of this story more realistic, while GRRM fantasy story is obviously fascinating, I don't really personally enjoy writing about mythical creatures or crunching everything important into a year or so; with that being said, this story is going to span over multiple years and the Wars are going to be more slow and realistic, something out of our own world in that sense and I HATE to disappoint, but there won't be any dragons in my story I just think it gives a huge disadvantage to the Targs and I want everyone to be on an even playing field and everyone to have to face the reality, that they could just as easily win as they could lose!  
> For some character reference, our beautiful Sansa Stark is casted as none other than the BEAUTIFUL german actress, Romy Schneider! and our Tywin Lannister is casted as the badass, amazing villainous actor, Christoph Waltz! Here is a link to visuals of this story!  
> https://www.pinterest.com/AinsleighLeigh/melancholy-tidings/


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